Epilogue
Skylar Cathal
(Six Years Later)
The summer sun lingered high above the thick canopy of trees, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cool silver mist drifting from the falls.
The spray danced in the rays of peaking sunlight, glittering like diamonds.
It felt worlds away from the gentle breeze that swept along my open-sky green sand beach, where we had spent the morning tangled in silence and stories, savoring the quiet while it lasted.
Still, I couldn’t leave without coming here. Couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the mainland without stopping to say a quiet hello to the shifters who raised me as their own.
“Skylar? Skylar?” Daxton’s voice echoed across the rocks with a slight panic.
But I only leaned back and smiled, rolling out an ache along the base of my spine. It had been there for days, and rubbing against this pointed rock was the only thing that seemed to get rid of it.
“There you are,” he said as he came around the bend. “I don’t mean to rush you, Spitfire, but—”
I clicked my teeth and swatted a hand through the air. “I know, I know. I just needed a moment.”
Daxton’s eyes softened as he sat beside me, his fingers replacing the corner of the rock, rubbing the persisting ache.
“Oh, gods,” I moaned. “That… that feels amazing. Please, whatever you do, don’t stop.”
He chuckled.
“What?” I asked, tilting my head.
“I believe it was seductive sounds like that which got you into this predicament in the first place. Along with you wearing my shirt and nothing underneath when you visited me in the garden that evening ten months ago.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Not funny.”
He smirked. “And that.”
“Oh, gods.”
“What? You married me, claimed me, and now I believe this”—he reached around my waist, his palm resting atop my very hard, very rounded pregnant belly—“this means I’m forever in your debt, my love. For the gift you are giving me.”
I smiled and leaned to kiss his cheek, grimacing as a swift kick from our child collided with my ribs, followed by a low pressure in my core.
“The babe is feisty today,” I said.
Daxton laughed, bending to whisper, “Just like your mother.”
“Right, just me.” I laughed, but something felt… wrong.
“Skylar?” Daxton’s voice was laced with worry.
If I thought he was overprotective before, gods, there was officially a new definition when I told him I was pregnant. He, along with all the others, were always watching me like a fragile thing ready to break.
Aggravated was an understatement. I was creating a life here, just like thousands of other females had done before me, and it was—
“Ouch.” Okay, that one hurt.
Daxton leaped into a crouch beside me. “Skylar…”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Daxton. I’m—” I tensed as a pain seized the breath from my lungs. “Okay, that was one strong kick.”
Daxton narrowed his eyes. “How long?”
“How long what?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He glared at me harder, lowering his beautiful face toward me until his nose was practically touching my own. “Spitfire?”
I sighed, giving in. “Since this morning.”
“Skylar!” Daxton roared, rising to his feet.
“Hey! Come on now,” I said in a scolding tone, pushing myself off the rocks to face him, only slightly stumbling along the way.
Daxton rolled his eyes and reached out to help steady me.
“You don’t want your child to hear you yelling at its mother like that.”
His glare said more than his words ever could.
“I needed to be here, Dax. I needed to—”
My mate sighed heavily, giving me a sad smile. “I understand. I know, I miss him too.”
I looked beyond the falls to a patch of grass with a sturdy pine tree growing over two small graves, where my aunt Julia and my uncle Magnus were laid to rest together, in the place where they first met.
In the final battle, Magnus intended to make it his last stand.
He refused to let me heal him, refused to let anyone tend to his wounds.
When my eternal flame finally ended the false queen and our world was saved, my uncle, the only father I had ever known, made his way to the crossing, where his mate waited for him.
A strong wave of pain stretched from my back along my stomach, and this time, I wasn’t able to brush it off like the previous ones.
“Dax—” I said, my voice strained with labor pains.
I reached out to him to try and steady myself, but being the overprotective male he was, Daxton bent and lifted me with one arm under my knees, marching down the rocks and toward the clearing where my self-proclaimed babysitter for the last ten months was patiently waiting for us.
“Oh, gods!” Gunnar jumped to his feet, dark eyes bright, hair loose over one side of his head, with his battle axe strapped to his belt despite the six years of peace in our world. “Is it time already?”
I groaned. “Already? Are you serious right now, Gunnar?”
“What? High Fae females usually carry their babes for twelve months… and it’s only been—”
“I swear to the gods above, if you say only ten… I will burn the eyebrows off your face.”
“Easy, Spitfire.” Daxton chuckled, kissing my forehead, sending a wave of his ice magic over my burning spine. “Don’t incinerate our general.”
“Don’t let him tempt me then.”
Bringing our child into this world was one of the most difficult, exhausting, soul-splintering experiences of my life. Pain tore through me in waves so fierce they blurred the edges of reality, turning minutes into eternities.
And still… in a single heartbeat, I would do it all again.
Daxton never released my hand, not once in the grueling hours I was contracting and pushing our child into this world. When a contraction stole my breath, he breathed for me. When my vision dimmed, he anchored me with the warmth of his touch.
“You can do this, Skylar,” he whispered like a prayer each time my strength faltered, pulling me back from the edge.
Six hours. Six hours of active labor, of pushing against the limits of my body and will. Six hours where Daxton looked at me as if I were the most awe-inspiring thing he’d ever held.
Then, in the quiet between one ragged breath and the next, time seemed to pause, and a sound rose into the silence that cracked my heart wide open.
Our son’s first cry.
The proof that every moment of agony, every tear, every terrified gasp of the last years had been worth it.
With our son lying in my arms, Daxton’s hand tightened around mine, and when I looked into his eyes, I saw a raw, unguarded love so fierce it felt almost god-like.
Our room at the Summit in Silver Meadows was still spinning with the wonder of it all as our son’s tiny fingers curled around mine.
The healer left us alone, giving us time to sit in peace with our son.
After his first feeding, I handed him to Daxton, my heart swelling at seeing his silver eyes ignite with a depth of love I had only read about in books.
“Come here, my son,” he said as he picked him up and rocked him in his arms, humming the song his mother sang for him. That he sang to me… That he now sang to our son.
Knock, knock, knock.
Daxton glanced toward the door, tensing with his magic flaring, a growl rippling through our bond.
“Come in,” I said with a smile, sensing who was on the other side.
Shaw’s broad frame filled the doorway first, followed by Zola and Gunnar, who practically shoved them both aside with a grin so bright it could’ve blinded half the Inner Kingdom.
“Well?” Gunnar asked, eyes already gleaming with mischief as he burst inside. “Who do we have here?”
Shaw rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward as he looped an arm around Zola.
Their sealed mate marks were proudly displayed along their necks.
They’d sealed their bond not long after the final battle, in the quiet aftermath when the world was still trying to remember how to breathe.
They were different now, stronger, softer, settled in a way neither of them had been before.
Happiness suited them.
They’d moved into a small house outside Silver Meadows. Shaw needed to be near the pack, helping oversee the transition for all the shifters moving into the Inner Kingdom. He’d taken the responsibility with the seriousness of someone who wanted to rebuild a world better than the one he’d survived.
And Zola… Well, Zola continued doing what she always did best. To be honest, I still didn’t know what she did exactly. All I knew was that she worked in the shadows and on secret missions Daxton sent her on.
Zola approached my bedside with an unexpected gentleness, as if every sharp edge of her had softened in the presence of our child.
Daxton brought our son over and handed him to the shadow jumper.
“Oh,” she breathed, her voice dipping lower, quieter. “He’s… He’s perfect.”
“He is adorable!” Gunnar practically squealed. “Look at those little toes and fingers.”
I chuckled at the sight of the general of the Silver Meadows warriors fawning over a baby like this. “You sure you don’t want to settle down and have one of your own, Gunnar?”
“Nah,” he said, winking at me. “I like to play with them and then give them back. That way, I savor all the fun.”
Daxton clapped Gunnar on the shoulder. “He’ll need his uncle to teach him all the things his mother and I tell him not to do.”
Gunnar’s smile reached his pointed ears. “It would be my honor.”
Shaw moved to stand behind Zola, his hand brushing lightly over the mark on her neck, the bond shimmering between them like a tether of light. His eyes, usually so guarded, melted when he looked at our son.
“Congratulations,” he said in a calming tone full of happiness. “Both of you.”
Daxton’s hand tightened around my shoulder, his pride washing over me in a wave so strong through our bond that it caused my eyes to sting.
“Want to meet him, Shaw?” I asked.
My beta smiled, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. “I’d love to, Sky.”